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Finding Isadora
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Finding Isadora—Story Summary
by Susan Fox
He’s the worst man in the world for her. So why can’t she resist him?
Raised by hippies, veterinarian Isadora Wheeler yearns for security, marriage, and fidelity. Her fiancé fits comfortably into her plans.
When Isadora meets activist lawyer Gabriel DeLuca, who’s defending her father on an arson charge, “comfortable” is not the word she’d use. Gabriel awakens her passion and makes her question everything she knows about life—and love.
Should she stick to the safe path or does she have the guts to follow her heart?
Praise for Susan’s Books
“I loved this book. It’s the perfect sweep-you-away story—smart, sexy, funny and touching…Susan Fox delivers an unforgettable read.”
Susan Wiggs, New York Times bestselling author, on Home on the Range
“Emotionally compelling, sexy contemporary romance.”
Publishers Weekly on Love, Unexpectedly
“Fox delivers a contemporary love story sure to make readers go weak in the knees.”
Publishers Weekly on His, Unexpectedly.
“This series is a must read for the great characters, sweet romance, explosive passion and thought-provoking view on life.”
The Romance Reviews on the Wild Ride to Love series.
“You can’t go wrong picking up a Susan Fox book.”
Romance Reviews Today on Yours, Unexpectedly
Finding Isadora
by Susan Fox
Published by Susan Lyons Books
ISBN 978-0-992020101
Copyright 2013 Susan Lyons
Cover by The Killion Group, Inc.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Discover other titles by this author.
Table of Contents
Finding Isadora—Story Summary
Praise for Susan’s Books
Finding Isadora
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Note to Readers
Author Bio
Other Titles by Susan (writing as Susan Fox, Savanna Fox, and Susan Lyons)
Bonus Material—Excerpt from Sex Drive
Sex Drive—Chapter 1
Sex Drive—Chapter 2
Chapter 1
I stripped off my surgical gloves and mask, and exhaled a long sigh of relief. When I sucked that breath back in again, the air carried the tang of blood, anesthetic, and disinfectant. The scent was as familiar to me as the smell of cinnamon toast when I was a kid, and as reassuring. This was my world, and today I, Isadora Dean Wheeler, was, to use my mother’s term, a goddess. I’d worked a miracle.
I beamed at my assistant. “Good work, Martin. Will you clean Pussywillow up and get her settled in the recovery room?”
“Sure, Doc.” With a gentle hand, he stroked the little gray cat’s head. “You saved her life.”
“We did it together.” Adrenaline sang in my veins. When we’d started the surgery, I’d estimated the cat’s chances at no higher than ten percent; now, I was sure she’d recover.
Martin Swallow, only twenty-one but in many ways older in the ways of the world than I, had long ago learned to hide his emotions. But now, slowly, a white smile split his brown face.
Like a pair of idiots we stood grinning at each other across the stainless steel table. I was so happy to share this moment with him. The young Cree had been with Vancouver’s West End Pet-Vet Clinic for only six months, but he was a quick learner and genuinely loved animals.
He glanced at the clock. “Weren’t you supposed to leave by five?”
The fundraiser. I’d completely forgotten, and it was ten to six. “Damn!”
I stripped off my cap and blood-stained gown and tossed them in the laundry bin, then left the sterile surgery and hurried to the reception area where our patient’s family waited for news.
Today, the homey atmosphere and mellow guitar music weren’t working any soothing magic on the diminutive dark-haired girl who huddled in her mother’s arms, tear-streaked and sniffling.
I smiled reassuringly at the mom as I squatted in front of the child to talk to her. “It’s okay, Sue. Pussywillow came through beautifully.”
Little Sue Tran stared at me with huge brown eyes, hope chasing the tears away. “R-really?” The girl hiccupped back a sob.
“Really.” I nodded firmly. “That raccoon hurt her pretty badly and we’ll need to keep her here a couple of days, but then you can take her home. You’ll have to take really good care of her, just like your mommy takes care of you when you’re sick.”
Those soulful eyes peered at me, assessing my honesty. Then Sue brushed at the moisture clinging to her lashes and nodded. Her “Okay” was barely a whisper.
“Thank you, Dr. Wheeler.” The heartfelt words came from above me.
I glanced up at Linh Tran, a not-so-much-larger version of her daughter. “You’re welcome. That’s what we’re here for.”
Turning back to Sue, I said, “Want to see her? She’s sleeping and won’t wake up, but you can pet her.”
Kids might seem to believe you when you told them their pets would be all right, but they often had nightmares afterward. It helped if they could see the animal resting, feel the breath lifting in and out, before they went home. They’d have a positive image to replace the one of their animal bleeding, unconscious, or crying in pain.
“Yes, please, Dr. Wheeler,” Sue said, and this time her voice was louder.
I led mother and child into post-op. The small room was warm and dimly lit, full of meadow bird song. Martin had settled our patient in a basket lined with soft towels. He was stroking her, softly chanting a Cree healing song. Pussywillow lay curled in a furry ball, the blood now cleaned away and the only sign of her trauma the wide bandage wrapped around her mid-section.
“Touch her head, Sue. Very gently.” I demonstrated.
The girl politely but firmly elbowed me out of the way and I suppressed a chuckle, pleased her confidence was returning.
“She’s sleeping,” I murmured as the girl rested her hand tentatively on the cat’s furry head. “What do you think she’s dreaming about?”
Sue tilted her head to one side. “Our ‘quarium,” she whispered. “She likes to watch the fish in our ‘quarium.”
“I’ll bet she does.”
As we watched, the little cat stretched her front legs, starting to come out from the anesthetic.
“Pussywillow looks so good,” Linh murmured to me. Her English, unlike her daughter’s, had the slight lilt of an immigrant from Asia. “She was bleeding so much. I was afraid…”
I touched her arm. “You saved her, tying that towel around her and getting her here so quickly.”
“No, Doctor, you saved her.”
I felt a glow of satisfaction. The cat was healthy and strong, and she’d pull through. I’d keep an eye on he
r for the next couple of hours and then— Damn. Again I’d forgotten about Richard’s blasted fundraiser. Surreptitiously, I checked my watch. Six o’clock.
Richard was supposed to pick me up at home in fifteen minutes.
Thank heaven I’d had the foresight—the self-knowledge—to bring my evening clothes to work, just in case something came up. Funny how the just-in-cases happened more often than the carefully laid plans. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. Ever since I could remember, I’d wanted to be a vet, and I loved every minute of it.
I whispered to Martin, “I have to go, but you’re on tonight, right? You’ll keep a close eye on Pussywillow?”
“You bet, Doc. I’ll call you if there’s any problem.”
Martin knew me well. Even though Felipe, the vet who was working evening shift tonight, was excellent, I liked following through on my own cases. Once I’d had my hands on an animal, done my best to heal it, I hated to turn the creature over to someone else. It was more than professional pride, and not one whit scientific, but I felt as if my spirit and the animal’s were somehow bound together. Having applied my professional knowledge and skill, now it was a matter of one spirit speaking to another.
This was a secret I’d confessed to only one other person, my mother. Grace understood such things. Martin knew too, I was sure, though we’d never discussed it.
I dialed Richard’s cell. When he answered, I said quickly, “Hi, sweetheart, it’s me. Change of plans. Can you pick me up at the clinic?”
He chuckled. “I could’ve guessed.” Then, in a worried tone, “But Iz, what are you going to wear?”
“You don’t think jeans would make the right impression?”
“Uh—”
I rescued him. Teasing Richard was fun, but I didn’t have time to indulge. “I brought good clothes to work.”
“Okay. I just left my place. I’ll be there in ten.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Ten minutes to transform myself into an elegant gala-goer. I hurried into the bathroom, then stared at my reflection and laughed helplessly. Elegant wasn’t in the cards. Reasonably clean and decently clad were the best I could hope for.
A shower—the shower I’d hoped to have at home—would have felt wonderful, but I had to make do with a paper-towel sponge bath. After, I slathered my body with lime-scented lotion, hoping it would be strong enough to overcome the antiseptic scent that clung to me at the end of a work day.
Carefully I eased into the fitted black cocktail dress that, along with a pair of strappy high-heeled black sandals, made up my entire collection of formal evening wear. My short, streaky blond hair was tousled as always, but nothing short of a shower and blow-dry was going to help it. I applied a dash of eye make-up and wondered if I should borrow a lipstick from Betty, the receptionist. A great-grandma, she believed no woman should go out in public with naked lips. Not me. I hated the taste of lipstick, and the mess it left on drink glasses, not to mention cheeks.
The dangly puppy-dog earrings had to go. I unzipped an inside pocket of my purse, extracted a tiny suede pouch, and slid from it my engagement ring and the matching birthday earrings. The stones weren’t ostentatious, but they were diamonds. Richard’s generosity was one of his great attributes, but the truth—which I’d probably never confess to him—was that diamonds made me squirmy.
I’d seen the expression on Grace’s face when I’d first shown her the ring. One tiny grimace, that was all. Jimmy Lee didn’t believe in wordless communication, so I’d heard far too many words from my father on the subject of immoral materialism, conspicuous consumption, and what an archaic institution marriage was.
I often disagreed with my parents—as I did strongly about marriage—but when it came to diamonds we were of like mind. Still, I understood Richard’s viewpoint. We wanted a conventional life, the opposite from that chosen by his left-wing father and my hippie parents. How did you begin a conventional life if not with the tradition of a diamond engagement ring? Even so, I couldn’t wear the ring to work. Not when I spent the day peeling surgical gloves on and off, and scrubbing my hands with antiseptic soap.
When Richard and I set a wedding date, we’d need to have a serious talk about rings. I wanted a simple band with no stones, something I could put on and never take off. A symbol of our undying love—not, as my unmarried parents believed, a brand that labeled me as a man’s possession.
Of course it didn’t help that Grace and Jimmy Lee weren’t particularly keen on Richard. Mind you, given how different my priorities were from theirs, if my parents had approved of him I’d have had to question my choice of mate.
I smiled at my reflection. No, I had no doubts about Richard. He was exactly what I wanted, and I loved him dearly. My life plan was firmly in place.
Somehow, I managed to wriggle into pantyhose without snagging them. When I stepped into my evening shoes, my feet and calves promptly reminded me I’d been standing for most of the last ten hours. Some women—like the lawyers in Richard’s office—wore power suits, pantyhose, and heels to work every day. How lucky I was to have a career where I could dress for comfort.
Leaving the bathroom, I checked my watch. Twelve minutes had passed since I’d spoken to Richard. As I pulled on my coat, I called, “Martin?”
He materialized silently.
“How’s our patient?”
“Woke up while the little girl was here, then fell into a natural sleep.” He gave me a thumbs-up. “Lookin’ good.”
Even if the cat was in no danger, I still wished I could stay here. At the clinic I was in my element; at the Fairmont Hotel Vancouver I’d be a plain brown sparrow amid a flock of peacocks. But Richard needed me. And relationships require compromise.
When I opened the clinic door I saw my fiancé’s pride ‘n joy Lexus, a law school grad present from his mom and stepfather, idling in the loading zone. He hopped out when he saw me, and we reached the passenger door at the same time.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said, stretching up for a quick kiss.
He’d had his thick dark hair cut even shorter, and smelled of a fresh application of Calvin Klein cologne. “I had a busy day, too. Barely made it home to change.”
Two years younger than my twenty-seven, he was a corporate lawyer, called to the Bar last year and now a junior associate at a high-powered firm. I still had to suppress the tiniest shudder when I thought the words corporate lawyer, and I knew his work was one of the things my parents held against him. Richard had chosen that area of law because it fascinated him. Go figure. We had nothing in common when it came to our careers except the very most important things: we both loved what we did, and we valued the financial security afforded by a steady job.
As he drove the few blocks to the Hotel Vancouver, I told him about Pussywillow.
“Good for you, Iz. That must have been gratifying.”
“It was.”
“I had a good day, too. Got a new client. He’s unhappy with his company’s lawyer, had dinner last night with a client of mine, the client recommended me. The guy e-mailed me at work this morning, then we talked on the phone. Not bad for a Saturday, eh?”
“That’s terrific.” He’d told me that the associates were competitive, struggling to impress the partners and to set their own feet on the partnership track. Bringing in new clients was an important step. “So we both had a rewarding day. Wish we could relax and celebrate alone.”
“Sorry, but this is important because—”
“I know,” I broke in. “I’ll just be glad when it’s over and we can be alone.”
“Me, too,” he said in a heartfelt tone. He pulled into the valet parking area. “Tonight’s on the firm, and we’re running late.”
At the moment, I was less concerned with expense and timeliness as with my own anxiety. Fancy social functions were definitely not my forte. Richard was here representing his firm, so I wanted to make a good impression, but I had little confidence in my ability to do that among these high-flyers.
I smiled, recognizing Both Sides Now. How many times had Grace played the Joni Mitchell version of that song? Too bad Richard and I couldn’t snuggle up in the cozy lounge, sip wine, listen to music, and gloat smugly because we really did know love.
He tugged my hand and speeded up. “Come on, Iz.”
We stepped onto marble again, my thin soles skidding. I grabbed his arm. “These shoes aren’t made for running.”
“Sorry.” He slowed so abruptly that I lost my balance.
As I clung to his arm, he shoved his glasses up his nose, a sure sign of nervousness. “By the way”—his voice was tight—”I should warn you about a couple of people who might be here.”
“Like who?” I asked anxiously.
“Um, well, one’s the senior partner of my firm.”
“Richard! Why didn’t you tell me before?” My nerves coiled tighter. I knew I’d have to meet his big boss one day, but he could’ve given me more warning. I might even have worn lipstick.
He blinked a couple of times, avoiding my glare. “Sorry. Guess I didn’t want to make you nervous.”
“Aagh!” I was tempted to take off one of my uncomfortable shoes and whack him with it. “So, who’s the other person? The CEO of your biggest client?”
He shrugged. “Well, yeah, he may be here, but—” He broke off. “Let’s just see who shows up. There’s a good chance you won’t even have to meet … anyone.”
Great. Now he was embarrassed to introduce me. But his world of big companies was foreign to me. I had no idea what to say to these people. Not for the first time, I thought Richard should be with a woman who could enhance his career.
But he’d chosen me. Meekly, I followed him into the elevator, feeling as strung out as a baby bird facing its first flight.
Finding Isadora